


Or I'll Never Fall in Love

by SavvyLark



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jazz - Freeform, Singing, Song Lyrics, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-02 07:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13313646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavvyLark/pseuds/SavvyLark
Summary: New story! Newly discovered Jazz singer 'The Mockingjay' has Chicago's attention with her sultry voice and views on love. Unknowingly causing an intellectual wave of questions around the city about love in the otherwise cold and lonely winter months. Despite her protest, is love in her future?





	1. Chapter 1

Heavy snow falls. The shivering cold winds outside remind us of the chill that drifts in after the holiday season and before the warmth of spring.  
An echo of loneliness and indifference seems to flow from any sense of community that remains.  
Months of staying inside from the chill of winter, with too much time spent indoors pondering life's questions. Questions of life, love, and purpose.

One of which has the attention of this windy city enraptured.

They call her The Mockingjay.

Some say the nickname originated from her late father, the late club singer, Jimmy “Jaybird” Everdeen. 

Others say with a chuckle, “It has a lot to do with her mocking indifference with love”. 

Most find her moniker appropriate, that her voice alone leaves grown men emotional, and the chattiest gossips in amazed silence. 

They say she's a dicidamy nay legend.

Some say she's too pure.

Some say she's a cynic. 

Friends say, if you ask her, the Mockingjay doesn't believe true love exists. 

Yet, her true feelings show through and betray her with every song, every thought played through her eyes, her gaze, her sighs. Something she isn't aware of. 

I know her secret. 

The Mockingjay is searching for answers. 

As if to ask, “Does love exist? Prove me wrong. Tell me it does!” her silver eyes plead.

The intensity of her metallic gray eyes has many captivated, but it's her voice that brings in hoards of crowds to this unsightly Jazz club. 

The Mockingjay is slender and small, but every bit womanly and sexy in mysterious way. Her wavy chocolate locks flow around her shoulders, several tiny braids are set on top of her mane to create a sleek headband. The presence of a braid in her hair has become a trademark of sorts; in honor if her late mother, I was told. 

The singer is deep in thought as she stares out into the audience. 

She turns to the musician on the saxophone. 

A somewhat menacing-looking, tall, dark jazz player softens when their eyes meet. Deep respect is what I read from his gaze. Then he thaws, flashing her a cheeky grin and a wink. She reciprocates. 

Then, she nods to the man closer to her. On the trumpet is a tall stoic dark haired man with steely eyes and a fedora, all cool, calm and collected. He nods back, deep affection flashes in his eyes for a minute, then calm again. 

The perfectly coiffed, classically beautiful blond woman at the piano also gets a nod. A cheerful smile and blue eyes reply, before her agile fingers dance over the keys beginning the song.

The Mockingjay sways in time with the accompaniment. Styled like a modern Audrey Hepburn, her midnight blue dress catches the light and reveals traces of silver that reflect the lights and glint around the room. 

Every bit old world Jazz elegance, the Mockingjay is the real deal.

Her hands wrap around the microphone, lips purse and eyes close, as she takes a deep breath, almost lost in a memory, as she composes herself. 

When her eyes open she is transformed, on fire, ignited. 

Her very presence is captivating.

She has every person frozen in place as her voice carries its first lyric. The song that seems to beckon the audience to ponder love, almost in challenge. The conviction in her tone doesn't waver, her salutary, velvety voice carries, transcendent. 

Nat “King” Cole's words fill the venue in the most modern way. 

“When I fall in love it will be forever  
Or I'll never fall in love  
In a restless world like this is  
Love is ended before it's begun  
And too many moonlight kisses  
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun”

The perceived heartache portrayed as her voice cracks nearly tears hearts in two. 

“When I give my heart it will be completely  
Or I'll never give my heart  
And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too  
Is when I fall in love with you.

And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too  
Is when I fall in love with you.”

The audience is brought into something unearthly, a fairytale that is still unfolding.

This is the Girl on Fire, and this is her love story, with blank pages still to be written.

Chicago comes to see the Mockingjay, and hear the story she only tells through the Jazz songs she sings. 

She’s not one to kiss and tell, but word gets out fast. As you know, I'm known for finding out secrets. 

Here's what I do know about our Mockingjay.

Her parents had quite the epic love story, of class and even race differences; a struggling musician who fell in love with the wealthy physician's daughter. 

Shunned by her parents, she chose true love. The love of Jimmy and Lillian Everdeen was beautiful and well known. A modern West side story with a struggling but happy ending.  
Jimmy “Jaybird” Everdeen wrote many love songs for his soulmate and sang them at this very club, Abernathys. 

“After her father died, her mother went into a deep depression. The Mockingjay swore off love, convinced it no longer existed,” an acquaintance of our cynical songbird says. 

Try as they might, men gravitate towards the Mockingjay, but she only gives them one date and maybe a heated evening of passionate kissing that never leads to more. 

“And too many moonlight kisses seem to cool in the warmth of the sun.” Is quite literally the turn of events that transpire. 

“Firey” and “addictive” are some of the words her dismissed suitors use when they comment on the Mockingjay or her kisses. 

“She has no idea the effect she can have.” A friend of hers is quoted to have said about our Mockingjay. 

So on goes this hopeful cynic’s not so determined quest for love. It's her worst kept secret.

Chicago can't get enough of her voice or her story. Bringing life to the dead of winter. 

I'll be following the unfolding of her in love story at Abernathy’s, read it here at The Secrets of Chicago online Magazine. 

 

“Woah Finnick!!” Johanna yells, rushing toward me. I can barely tug my jacket off as I step in the door. 

“A publisher wants the story! The Mockingjay, they want you to add more sources and follow the story as it unfolds,” my editor, and only partner in our little upstart magazine, explains. 

My jaw drops as I struggle to form sentences.

Annie, our assistant, breezes by and places a cup of coffee in my hand without breaking her pace to her office. 

“Heavensbee from the Chicago Coin is on line one,” Johanna smirks.

We don't have any other lines, it's our little joke, but I ignore it and dart into my office, scrambling for the phone. 

“Finnick Odair here.” 

XXXXX  
On the morning after my second article of the Mockingjay story was published, there was an urgent knock. No, angry BANG at the door to our offices.

There stood an angry Mockingjay on the other side of the door.

“I‘m a musician!! This isn't a love story!” the fiery little singer snarled. 

“Relax, you're a symbol of the questions of love.” I start out, trying to smooth things over, I have a way with women, they just can't resist me.

Instead of being swayed, she remains unaffected. Scowling incredulously, her silver eyes flicker with an angry fire. What is up with this woman?

I lean in, as if we're sharing a secret I whisper “You and I both know love doesn't exist.” 

Her eyes soften, but the scowl remains on her face. 

“It's just a good story to get us through the agonizingly boring winter months before spring arrives. Your little club could use the attention, full audiences, more shows bookied. This is a win-win, Girl on Fire!” I wink at her, and flash my dimpled smile which usually makes woman putty in my hands. 

She remains indignant. “No!” she spats.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick wanted to use the Mockingjay as a piece in his stories, the this song bird plays by her own rules...

The snow outside is heavy and weighs on your boots and clothes as it falls. The fluttering of the flakes in the air are almost disorienting, with no particular pattern or direction they fall in.  


My mind, heavy with a puzzle I can't quite solve, a conundrum. Answers just out of my I grasp.  


I have filled my notebook with unresolved questions.  


Annie walks in and finds me with my head buried in my hands.  
“That bad, huh Finnick?” she asks, setting a steaming cup of coffee on my desk.  


Annie's older brother and I were friends as kids and went to school together, so I guess you could say I grew up with Annie. When Jo and I were looking for a secretary to help with all the little things around the office, Annie was available. She's sweet but clever and can dish back any jest Johanna and I throw her way. She's helped with the professionalism we've needed in this upstart online magazine.  


Annie has an uncanny ability of detecting insincerity and what is not real. As Johanna refers to it “her BS radar is something to behold.”  


I grunt in reply to Annie's question.  
“That Mockingjay is a spitfire! And funny! She is funny...” I say shaking my head in my hands, a bitter laugh escapes my lips.  


Annie is so easy to talk to, without thought I explain my frustration to her.  


The Mockingjay came into my office with fire in her eyes, wind in her hair.  


She expected that we drop the articles.  
Though wildly popular, she felt like they objectified her music to be just one thing, a love story. When she's a multi-faceted musician and wanted to be respected it as such.  


She refused to cooperate and stormed out. With a gleam in her eye, I could almost see something click. The inner workings of her mind setting a plan in motion.  


I should have known.  


I should have called Plutarch, but I didn't know what I was getting myself into.  


I shake my head again, incredulously.  


“Ella Fitzgerald sings a song called ‘Makin Whoopee!’ have you heard it?” I ask with a smirk.  
Annie's green eyes widen. “No, I haven't.”  


“Well our Mockingjay drew in quite a crowd last night, and they were expecting a bright-eyed singing nightingale right out of a Disney movie. What they got was a comedic, cynical view of… well, I'll just show you what I recorded, here.”  


This Mockingjay was, well, mocking, and cunning and down right hilarious.  


The full band played a beautiful introduction, transporting its audience to a different era and different time. You could close your eyes and imagine that you were there with the big band celebrating the end of a war.  


Poised on stage. A gleam of mischief in her eye. She leans into the microphone and I could almost hear a snicker.  


The Mockingjay looked up and began to sing.  


“Every time I hear that march from Lohengrin  
I am always on the outside lookin' in  
Maybe, that is why I see the funny side  
When I see a fallen brother take a bride  
Weddings make a lot of people sad  
But if you're not the groom, they're not so bad.”  


The Mockingjay winked and pursed her red lips as the audience's jaws dropped. The smiling reply from our soloist confirmed that this is exactly the reaction she wanted.  


She played up her black gloves, and batted her heavy black eyelashes. Projecting mock innocents.  


“No,” Annie says as she watches.  


“Yes.” I laugh and shake my head.  


The Mockingjay continues with her song.  
“Another bride  
Another June  
Another sunny honeymoon  
Another season  
Another reason  
For makin' whoopee!”  


The Mockingjay sings and sways with the music, clutching the microphone. 

“A lot of shoes  
A lot of rice  
The groom is nervous  
He answers twice  
It's really killin'  
But he's so willin'  
To make whoopee!” Her voice dips deeper, her own feelings and sense of humour seem to speak louder than the lyrics.  


The audience actually laughs when she winks. This singer has such a presence.

“Picture a little love nest  
Down where the roses cling  
Picture that same sweet love nest  
Think, what a year can bring  
He's washing dishes and baby clothes  
He's so ambitious  
He even sews  
But don't forget folks  
That's what you get folks  
For makin' whoopee!”  


Her eyes meet the trumpet player. I've learned his name is Gale and he's been a friend hers since childhood. They share a laugh, maybe it's a private joke, but it draws the audience into a secret.  


Maybe they knew someone who felt trapped by having children too early into a marriage? This woman is a puzzle. I will find out more. Piecing what I know together.  


I jot down a few questions to ask Gale in my notebook.  


The song continues, Annie is laughing with the audience at this point. 

“Another year  
Or maybe less  
What's this I hear, you never guess...  
Why she's neglected and he's suspected  
Of makin' whoopee!  
She sits alone  
'most every night  
He never phones  
He never writes  
He says he's busy  
She says, is he?  
He's makin' whoopee!”  


“Oh GEEZE!!” Annie yells at the screen. “When was this song written? Finnick, I can't believe it!” She's laughing but shocked, the audience is clearly just as offended.  


Well done, Mockingjay.  


None of this can do in the article.

“He doesn't make much money  
Only five thousand per  
Some judge who thinks he's funny  
Says, you pay six to her  
He says: "Now judge, suppose I fail?"  
The judge says: "Bud, right into jail"  
Oh, you better keep her, I think it's cheaper  
Than makin' W-H-O-O-P-E-E whoopee!”  


The band is incredible and closes the song out with a big descendo that fills your body with vibrations and energy. While the Mockingjay is poised and quite pleased with herself. At this point she was staring me down, silver eyes fiery in challenge when she spotted where I was filming.  


I thought we were allies. She has other ideas.  


The audience erupts in applause and cheers. She is a musician and quite the showman.  


Annie whistles a “wow.”  
“Well, I like her! That woman is intelligent, talented and a wildcard, she plays by her own rules.” Annie says with a smile.  


“I think I need Plutarch to talk to her. Maybe Abernathy himself would be an ally?” I shrug my shoulders, resigned to my own efforts coming up short.  


Maybe I layed on the charm too thickly? I turned the Mockingjay off instead. I wonder what Plutarch has in mind?  


Annie stops my inner dialogue when she puts her hand on my shoulder. “What makes you so obsessed with this story anyway, Finnick?” she asks me.  


“This is our big story! We've never gained so much attention before,” I answer.  


“That's not the only reason though, is it?” Annie asks. She's one of the few women who get the real Finnick, and she understands me.  


I sigh.  


“Well, I guess it's because I can identify with everything she's singing and feeling. I can read people. I usually use it to my advantage. The Mockingjay, she's the real deal, she's not putting on an act. She's having an internal struggle.  


“I always thought I didn't believe in love either, but I wonder, just like she does. The Mockingjay wants to know love is real.  
Not for show.  
Not for the audience.  
Not for the cameras.  
The selfies.  
The professionally posed engagement pictures.  
That's fantasy.  
But to truly find someone who could be your other half? Bring joy and beauty to your life? Does that exist?  
And do I want that?  
Is it worth seeking out?  
A love that is worth being vulnerable, that's worth heartache?  
This is her journey, and I stand with the Mockingjay.”  


My internal thoughts just spill out. Annie nods her head. Her eyes are watching but get a little foggy, almost recounting a memory.  


The air feels too thick. I need to break this moment.  


Annie knows my past. What I went through with my step-mom after my dad’s passing. The women. The self-loathing. Sometimes I wonder if there's anyone who could understand me more than Annie does.  


Women used me and objectified me before I had a fighting chance to understand a healthy kind of love.  


“That's why.” I leave my explanation hanging and stand up.  


Annie clears her throat and mumbles something about work at her desk as she shuffles out of my office.  
XXxX  


I don't know any details about the meeting between Plutarch and the Mockingjay, but I know it was a success. The man came ready with research and sources. He is known for his strategic planning, after all.  


She agrees to interviews as needed.  
More thoughtful songs that stir the audience, Plutarch must have a few in mind.  


She will go on dates like she had in the past, and we will be privy to the information as she “finds love.”  


Apparently, her sister is in trouble with Cornelius Snow. I don't know details, I'm a writer, not an investigator. I do know all about Snow and his nefarious dealings. Annie and I were both under his thumb at one point. I shiver to think of what had to do, what Annie might have.  


This is how I learned how valuable secrets are, and the pull of having a media presence.  
Plutarch has sway, power, and a certain level of protection he can ensure. Over the past couple of months of working for Plutarch Hevensbee I have learned a lot.  


The Mockingjay’s real name is left out of the articles for unknown reasons, I can only assume to be related to her sister.  


No amount of money Plutarch offered her has any influence on her decision. It was the insurance of protection that pushed the Mockingjay to agree. Protection for her sister, and another childhood friend of whom I don't know his significance in her life yet. 

Another childhood friend maybe?  
I wonder what this more cooperative Mockingjay will song about and reveal in the inner workings of her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you JavisTG for being a Beta and support!  
>   
>   
> What do you think? I love your feedback and may incorporate your thoughts in how I proceed. ;)


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